Skyrim: The Last Dragonborn
by umfaris
Summary: Legend speaks of a hero who will have to stop Alduin and save the word from chaos:The Last Dragonborn. But he will not do this alone. Accompanied by a Warrior, a Mage and a Thief, he must uncover the secret the return of dragons to Skyrim. Looks may deceive as each of our heroes find their place in this world, torn by a terrible civil war.


Quick note before reading: If you've arrived here after Jan 13 2017, you can disregard the following message. I've decided to revamp the whole thing so I'll be (hopefully) uploading updated versions of the chapters weekly and then continuing the story from there. The story remains the same, I just added more details in between. I'll be also uploading an audiobook version to YouTube next week. Thanks for the support, and enjoy this adventure.

Skyrim: The Last Dragonborn

Chapter I: Unbound

Darim could still hear the screams. "It's a trap!" The miners running and the sounds of steel unsheathed and clashing against bone and flesh still echoed inside his head. "Imperials!" The voices had all become a blur in his mind. When he opened his eyes, he found himself at the back of a horse cart, bound and unarmed. It was morning already and he could not recognize where he was. To him, Skyrim looked the same all around: snow and pine trees. Not that he knew the place too well. It had only been a week since he had crossed the border, so he had not had time for sightseeing.

He was not the only prisoner. Three more shared the cart and two other groups ran ahead of them in their respective ones. He recognized his captors. They bore the armor of the Imperial Legion. He had not been born yet when Hammerfell separated from the Empire, but some of the older veterans still treasured their boiled leather cuirasses with the dragon of Septim embedded in the front. Most of the prisoners bore a different sigil: a blue bear in a field of blue and gold. _Stormcloaks._ The rebellion was one of the reasons that brought Darim into Skyrim. _And now they take me to the Far Shores_ , Darim thought to himself.

"Damn you Stormcloaks" said one of the prisoners. He was not dressed as a rebel, wearing only a stained roughspun tunic. His hands showed the scars of iron chains. _An escaped criminal_. "Skyrim was fine until you came along", he went on. "Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He looked at Darim. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants".

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief", replied the Stormcloak in a sorrowful tone. _He's prepared to die_. "Shut up back there!" shouted the soldier driving the horse, and no one said another word for the next hour. The third prisoner was the most mysterious. Dressed on a fine fur-trimmed cloak and leather bracers, he gave the impression of nobility. A white piece of cloth covered his mouth, and all this time he'd been staring at the same spot on the floor of the cart. "What's wrong with him?" asked the thief. "Watch your tongue," answered the Stormcloak. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

 _Ulfric Stormcloak._ All Darim knew about the mythical figure is that he was the leader of the rebellion, and that he killed the last king with his voice. Whatever that meant. The thief, who was already nervous, began shaking violently. "The Jarl of Windhelm? But you're… If they've got you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?" _The realization_. "I don't know," replied the Stormcloak, "but Sovngarde awaits." _Sovngarde, the Far Shores, it's all the same. There is only death, friend._ Darim realized the thief was crying. "This can't be happening, this isn't happening," he murmured to himself. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?" asked the Stormcloak. The thief did not look back. "Why do you care?" he grunted. The Stormcloak smiled. "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home". Nobody spoke after that. By the time the carts stopped, the pines were already turning green. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" shouted a soldier. They had arrived at a stonewalled settlement. "Rorikstead" said the thief, "I'm from Rorikstead." The guards opened the gates and one by one the carts went inside the walls.

The town was teeming with soldiers. Darim had been entertaining the idea of escaping until now. _There is no way out of this_. "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor," said the Stormcloak. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves". They passed through a second wall, this time a wooden one. Every villager was outside their house. _We've become they're entertainment_. "This is Helgen," said the Stormcloak. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." Darim could hear the townspeople murmuring. "Who are they, daddy?" asked a child. "You need to go inside, little cub," replied his dad. The cart stopped. "Why are we stopping?" asked the thief. "What do you think?" replied the Stormcloak, standing up. "End of the line". He looked at Darim. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." A soldier went around the cart helping the rebels step down. "No! Wait!" the thief was screaming. "We're not rebels! You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

The four of them stood side by side in front of another soldier. A woman stood beside him. All in steel. _A captain_ , Darim knew. It was the same armor his father wore on the war, the same one Darim found hidden under his house when he was a child. "What is this, dad?" His father's face had turned red. He had been against the Empire after the war, but he still kept his old captain armor hidden. Darim knew why. His father loved battle, loved to kill. After the war, he had taken to hunting. But there was not much to hunt in Dragonstar, and the old Arena had been closed for a hundred years. _There was not much to satiate his thirst for blood_. The armor was the only thing that reminded of him of the good times. He had become violent. Shortly after that he left their family forever. "You take a fish out of the water, and it dies. Same thing happens if you take a solder out of the battlefield," had said Darim's mother before she died. She was a Nord, with fine white hair showing a little bit of skin here a there. A year later, Darim left Dragonstar and became a mercenary, but that tired him too. He needed more.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," said the captain. "Empire loves their damn lists," uttered the Stormcloak. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm!" announced the soldier with the list. The man stood forward and kept walking to the block. _They all want to die_. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" said the Stormcloak. "Ralof of Riverwood!" the soldier continued. The Stormcloak gave one last look at Darim before going on his way to the block. "Lokir of Rorikstead!" The thief did not move for a moment. "No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" Then he ran as fast as he could towards the gates of the town. "Halt!" screamed the captain. "You're not going to kill me!" he assured, before an arrow pierced his back, and silence took over. "Anyone else feel like running?" challenged the captain. The soldier took a while looking at his list. "What's happening, Hadvar?" asked the captain. "I can't… You there," he said to Darim, "Who are you?" _Who am I?_ "Darim, my name is Darim," he replied. The soldier named Hadvar kept looking at his list. "He's not here. Captain, what should we do?" She took a long look at him. "What're you doing here, Redguard? Are you a sellsword? A sailor from Stros M'Kai?" Darim did not know what to say.

He had entered Skyrim under the veil of the night. He had a plan. "We travel east along the southern mountains until winter is no more." Starer had proposed the journey back at Hammerfell. "The Thieves Guild has been dwindling in the Rift and the war has taken all the good men north. Everyone is scared. My cousin Thantias is making a fortune killing bandits or protecting rich people in their travels. You name it. Plenty of work for people like us". They had crossed the border together, and they had planned to stay together. That was, until a troll tore off Starer's head. Darim decided to change his plans. He kept going north from the icy mountains until he found a road, which he followed east towards Riften. He would have been there by now if he hadn't stop to rest on that mining village. _I killed three of them, one more and I could've gone away_. The captain had grown tired of waiting. "It doesn't matter," she said, "he goes to the block". "I'm sorry" Hadvar said, "I'll make sure your remains are returned to Hammerfell".

The executioner was cleaning his blade at the foot of an old, crumbling tower. "Ulfric Stormcloak!" The voice of General Tullius filled the small plaza on which everyone had gathered. He walked straight to Ulfric. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!" A muffled grunt was Ulfric's only response. "You started this war! You plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." The soldiers began cheering for their general, until a strange noise filled the sky. It sounded like a roar, like the troll that had taken Starer's life, but bigger. "What was that?" asked Ralof, who was standing besides Darim now. "It's nothing. Carry on!" said the Captain. A woman in a yellow robe walked to the center of the square. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you…"

"Ironic, isn't it?" asked a voice behind Darim. When he turned, he saw a young elf-maiden, even though it was hard to tell the age of an elf. She could have been an Altmer, a High Elf, with her golden skin and deep auburn hair, but she was definitely too short to be one. _A Wood Elf maybe_. He hadn't seen a lot of them. "What do you mean?" Darim asked her. One of the Stormcloaks ran past her straight at the headman's block, interrupting them. "Come on! I haven't got all morning," he screamed. "Back to your place, prisoner" said Hadvar. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." The woman in the yellow robe looked at the captain and back at the Stormcloak. "As you wish…" He threw himself at the block. The headsman raised his axe and looked at Tullius. The rebel grinned. "My ancestors are smiling at me. Can you say the same?" His head fell into a wicker basket besides the block. "As fearless in death as he was in life" said Ralof. The Captain was searching for the next victim until she made eye contact with Darim. _No._ "Next, the Redguard!" A second, stronger roar filled the sky. "Did you hear that?" a soldier asked. "I said, next prisoner!"

As if time had hastened, Darim found himself at the feet of the executioner, staring at his face. _If he's gonna kill me, let him look at me in the eye while he does_. His father had taught him that. "Only a coward kills through the back. There is art in two men, standing equal, racing to take the life of the other." The axe went up. Darim wasn't afraid but felt cold for a moment. _It can't be_. Darim saw something flying in the distance. But it was not possible. He never knew why. Maybe because of his hometown's name, but since he was a child, he had been obsessed by them. _But they're… gone_. He had memorized every book he had read about them, until his father took his books and gave him a sword in their place. _Maybe this is the afterlife, they've come for me_ … He closed his eyes, awaiting the blade's cold touch. But it never came.

The earth shook and he opened his eyes. It was there, at the top of the tower. "What in Oblivion is that?" asked Tullius, drawing his sword from its scabbard. The word was on Darim's lips. "Dragon!" screamed Ralof. The headsman stumbled and his axe fell besides Darim. He looked back, and the dragon shouted. Maybe it was the hunger, but for a moment he thought he heard words in the dragon's shout. The sky turned gray, and balls of fire came crashing down. "Don't just stand there! Kill that thing!" Darim heard Tullius say. He tried to stand up, but his hands were tied. Both soldiers and prisoners ran away. The dragon flew back up, steering between the raining fireballs. Darim tried to move closer to the headman's axe so he could free himself, but that proved impossible. He had given up when a hand raised him. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" It was Ralof. They both ran to a nearby tower, closing the door behind them.

A line of injured rebels and villagers spread throughout the floor. _No soldiers, though._ On their way to the tower, Darim had stepped over one or two imperial corpses. "I'm sorry I don't know any restoration spells" the elf-maid was saying to one of Stormcloaks. Ulfric was standing at the door, looking through an arrow slit. His mouth was uncovered. "Jarl Ulfric!" called Ralof, "what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" "Legends don't burn down villages," he said, in a deep voice. Someone knocked at the door with the strength of seven men. Ulfric opened the door, and a towering Nord entered. He was carrying an injured rebel in his arms, and dropped him by the others. His head was shaven, and he looked as thin as if he hadn't eaten for the last month. _Another criminal._ His eyes had a reddish hue, and half his face was covered by the remains of black war paint. By now it was gray. The elf went to him, and took a look at a small scrape by his side. "I have an idea," said Ralof. "I know this place. Follow me, up through the tower". Ulfric turned to him. "I will stay back to make sure no one gets left behind. Make your way to the keep and out through the tunnels. We'll emerge far enough from that thing." "We'll need weapons too," said one of the rebels, trying to stand up. "You need to save your strength brother," Ulfric replied. He turned to Ralof. "Go, and I'll see about the weapons."

Darim, Ralof, the elf, and the tall man hadn't gone up ten steps when a wave of fire pushed them back down the stairs. As the flames died they continued. There was a hole from the floor to the ceiling, wide enough for two men to jump through. The rest of the steps where blocked by the rubble. Darim walked towards the edge, and looked outside. The dragon was breathing fire against two archers on another tower, before flying back up. "He has to rest," Darim said. "What do you mean?" Ralof asked. "Every time he shouts, he has to rest until he can do it again. That's our chance." The elf approached them. "We have to start by getting out of this tower. We could lose him in the woods," said the elf. "No," said Ralof, "we have to make for the keep. There will be soldiers on the lookout for any escaped prisoners but the tunnels under the keep would take us halfway north to Riverwood." He looked down. "We can jump through the roof of the inn at the other side. I see the beds, they can soften our fall," said Ralof. "What then?" the elf asked. "We'll have to figure out later," said Darim, before jumping to the other side.

The fall was shorter than he expected, and he ended up missing the bed. He had to roll to soften the fall and ended up hitting his head against a broken drawer. He looked back up. His vision was blurry because of the fall. The tall man was next. He covered his eyes as he fell. _He's scared_. When he fell, he did so crouching, like a normal cat would have done. It may have been the hit to the head, but Darim felt as if the man made no sound when he landed. The man looked up, and without a word he jumped over Darim. They rolled together towards a corner. When Darim looked back, the dragon was trying to enter the tower through the hole. "We need to keep moving or it will see us," he said. The tall man did not say anything. Quietly, they both went down the stairs.

Outside the inn, an old man and a child were trying to hide themselves amongst the burnt buildings. The dragon flew over them, and landed no far from them. "Torolf! Gods!" It was Hadvar, running from a fire wave. He approached them, hiding behind a burning house. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense. You two, come with me". Darim stopped for a moment. "And why would we do that?" asked Darim. The thin man did not speak, but Darim could feel he agreed. "I know you are not rebels. Come with me, and I promise I will vouch for you. If you stay here, the next soldier who finds may not be as benevolent."

It was hard to walk the streets of Helgen with everything burning and falling down. Darim kept looking at the dragon. Every couple of minutes, he would come down and spread his flames then fly back up. "The dragon has to rest between shouts," he said, "We could use that to move safely through town". Hadvar looked up. The dragon came down, and went back up. "Now!" They ran all the way north and west through a narrow alley between a stone wall and what used to be an alchemist's store. There they waited. The thin man was quiet as ever, staring at the sky. A blackness covered them, and the dragon descended again, just on top of the wall. Darim looked a Hadvar, breathing as slowing as he could to avoid the beast's attention. _"Yol… Toor… Shul!"_ he shouted and two imperial bowmen went down screaming and covered in flames. One gave them a last look before succumbing to the heat. The dragon went up, and they continued. They found General Tullius giving commands to three archers and two imperial battlemages. "Hadvar," he said, "go into the keep. We're leaving." He looked at Hadvar's companions. "And keep an eye on those prisoners, we can't afford to lose more. Gormold! Sirgric! Escort Hadvar and his prisoners to the keep." Two tall Nords stood behind them, steel swords in hand. Darim looked at Hadvar. "Trust me", he murmured.

The keep was the tallest building in town and could be seen in the distance. The sky had turned a cloudy gray and Darim just realized there were no more fire balls falling from the sky. Only clouds. "There's a storm coming," said Hadvar, "I hope it'll scare that thing away". The dragon flew over them, black as night, grabbing a battlemage with his claws and letting him fall to his death. There was a broken stone wall south of the keep, from which people were coming out. _Stormcloaks_. Ralof was with them, and the Elf. When Ralof saw Hadvar, he took out a war axe. Three more rebels did the same. "Ralof, you damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar said. "We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time," Ralof replied. Then it happened. A sudden crash behind them only meant one thing. Darim turned around, and the dragon was there, his bloody fangs showing. Sirgric went running at him with his shield raised up. The dragon waited until he was close enough and snatched him with his mouth and swallowed him whole. Gormold stood in his place, but when the dragon took flight it grabbed him with his talons and flew away. Hadvar turned to Ralof. "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde", he said, before walking away to main entrance of the keep. "What about you?" asked Ralof. Darim looked for the thin man, but he was already making his way to the keep with the elf and the rest of the rebels. Darim stood there, thinking. "You don't have to answer. I understand you don't want to be branded a rebel like us. I wouldn't trust the Imperials if I were you, but if you rather take your chances, go on. Hadvar… is a good man. Goodbye, friend," he said, walking away. Hadvar was about to close the door when Darim appeared. It has started to rain.


End file.
